


A Helping Hand and a Willing Shoulder

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Genre: Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 00:04:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14705333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Comfort comes in many forms, and sometimes the one giving comfort one time finds a need to be comforted in turn.   And who knew a Dragon could have a domestic side??





	A Helping Hand and a Willing Shoulder

Mission followed mission for the Gorillas, some with Lynn, some not. The outings at The Doves sometimes, not often, coincided with Meghada's presence there; her own schedule of missions had been heavy and she wasn't home very much. When she was, she frequently joined them at their table, always at their request, though, as she made no overtures. Sometimes, it seemed to her, that was the only time she truly relaxed anymore, well, other than when the slender Brit visited, or when she was in her garden, the only time she felt the barriers come down; then again, those same barriers were what had kept her alive and sane (well, relatively) over the past few years, so removing them was sort of a good-news, bad-news thing.

For one thing, she was starting to worry when leaving on a mission, that the group might run into trouble at home, might need help, and she'd not be there for them. Really, she needed one more thing to worry about?? Used to be she worried about her missions; then, she started worrying about their missions too; now, she was worrying about them when they weren't even ON a mission. Sheesh!

An impromptu call to Ben and Alice Miller, asking them to come see her, helped with some of her anxiety, but it only helped, didn't make it go away. One thing she knew for sure, she was having to be very careful now, to treat them all as individuals but equally, not to let her, shall we say, partiality, show in public. Occasionally Lynn would catch a glimpse, get an inkling, but when she'd look again, all would be as usual, so Lynn put it down to her imagination.

Craig and the guys were gone on a mission, somewhere in Germany, when Lynn was called on to work the con with another group. She came back to the Mansion late one evening, tired and chilled, and after checking to see whether they had returned, finding they had not, she collapsed into bed. Waking slowly, and making her way stiffly to the shower, she mentally tallied all she needed to get done - check the larder for food, talk to the Sergeant Major about the wood supply, see if there was any word about the guys, check with a few people re her other irons in the fire . . .

She was dismayed by her findings by late morning. The freezer and refrigerator AND the pantry were basically empty, though they had not been when she left, the rations supply had again been 'delayed', and the med kits needed refilling - sulfa, sutures, aspirin, bandages, the works. Penicillin hadn't been available for several weeks, and morphine was a pipe-dream. The only good news was that the wood supply was plentiful, mostly since there hadn't been anyone around to actually use any of it, and the Sergeant Major had prevented Base Supply from confiscating what they had, even though he hadn't been so successful where the food was concerned. A shortage over at the orphanage, he'd said, and she couldn't fault that, except that it left them without any reserves. She'd have to get in food and try to refill the med kit, though she doubted Craig had enough money in the safe to do a thorough job of it; she had some stashed away, she could hit the shops in London, a trip of over two hours each way, so she decided to leave that afternoon, planning to spend the night in a friend's London flat. 

Craig called a little before noon; he and the others were on the way back from London. No major injuries, nothing that required a hospital, but it had been a rough mission (it seemed most of them were anymore) and everyone was bruised and battered, cold from the flight, hungry, worn out. Lynn hung up the phone, and just stood there thinking of what she'd found in her morning rounds, silently cursing the military operation that expected so much and gave so little in return. When she realized the silent cursing had shifted to a harsh, quite audible venting, to the slack-jawed dismay of the Sergeant Major, she went into action. She was NOT letting them come home to that sorry state of affairs, not when she had an alternative. If Meghada was home, she'd help; if she wasn't home, well, Lynn had that key to the cottage and carte blanche to take what she needed. Making a fast call to the cottage, she gave a brief "I need help, I'm on the way." Calculating how long it would take for the guys to get home, she instructed the Sergeant Major to lay a fire in the library and Common Room and light them in plenty of time to have at least those two rooms comfortably warm before the guys got there. Then she made her way to the car, and raced to the cottage.

Meghada heard her coming, wheels sliding on the gravel in the parking space at the side door. As Lynn darted into the kitchen, Meghada worked at grasping the specifics from the tumble of words, "be here in less than two hours. . . Nothing to feed them, med kits are flat . . . No time to get anything . . . Damn brass!" By then Lynn was shaking with frustration and anger, only partly a delayed reaction from her own stressful mission. Quickly Meghada sat her at the table, poured her a cup of the cottage-owner's overly strong coffee, weakened it to drinkability by mere mortals with a heavy dollop from the cream pitcher, and slid a slice of fresh bread in front of her, along with the butter dish and jam pot.

"Just sit and breathe; it'll be okay." Lynn watched in a daze as her friend, muttering to herself, started moving at double-pace.

"Okay, something to tide them over when they come in - something hot and nourishing, something that can be put together really fast. Then, something good and filling for tonight, and then there's breakfast. You can hit the shops and stalls after that, and get in some real supplies. Med kits, whatever I have on hand for now; can replenish the kits tomorrow too."

Soon big metal mesh double-handled baskets and a big cloth duffle were being filled: quart jars packed with turkey meat in broth, additional jars of turkey stock (all from the two birds sent by sister Caeide in the winter enclave shares), quart jars of carrots, beans and peas from the summer garden in back, two large stacks of soft flatbreads from the freezer, a couple bags each of torn bread and cornbread chunks and a bag of tinasie (small pieces and scraps of cooked leftover meats - sausage, ham, bacon - whatever had accumulated over the past couple of months), also from the freezer, eggs, a small bag of storage onions, a bigger bag of storage potatoes - all in all, a goodly portion of her winter stores since she generally cooked only for herself, outside of the baking for her Englishman.

She paused to confirm with Lynn that the Mansion kitchen had appropriate cookware, but that spices were evident only in their absence. Muttering, she filled a small basket with cloth bags of dried peppers, both sweet and hot, and small tins of herbs and spices; a rapid trip to the garden yielded what she could quickly gather of the fresh vegetables there; she returned to the pantry for sweet crackers, dried pasta, nut butter and honey, finally grabbing cheese, butter and oil, along with tea, coffee, and sugar. The medical chest she just took in total, dumping it on the floor of the waiting car; the baskets she loaded into the back.

The two women raced the car back to the Mansion, calling on the Sergeant Major to help with the unloading; though he started complaining about 'but these aren't rations', he quickly shut up after receiving matching glares, and a muttered "Damn right they aren't!" from the young woman he knew from the village, the one who worked with Major Richards sometimes, the one from the obstacle course fiasco.

Lynn checked the fires in the library and Common Room, putting out cigarettes and ashtrays, making sure afghans and quilts were draped over chairs, setting out glasses and a bottle of whiskey. Meanwhile Meghada started, as the Sergeant Major described it later to Lieutenant Garrison, "slamming round in the kitchen like a mad woman!".

Soon two big pots of turkey soup, rich with broth, thick with vegetables and freely strewn with small pieces of turkey, were bubbling away, smelling of sage and other spices, flatbread warming in the oven, and a pot of broth simmering to receive the noodles for the soup. The table was set, coffee at the ready, a pot of tea steeping, and Lynn returning to check on the progress when they heard the car pull up in the drive. 

They came slowly up the steps to the front door, weariness showing with each movement. Actor was limping, as was Chief. Casino was holding his left arm close to his body, and was sporting several bruises to his face. Goniff also was heavily bruised, sporting a split lip and a cut along his jawline. Craig's shirt was bloody down one sleeve, which sported a long cut, and was walking as if his back was out again. All in all, Lynn thought, a sad looking bunch. There was none of the usual banter and skylarking; even the mischief maker, Goniff, was silent and miserable.

As they made their way into the large front room, one by one they raised their heads, taking in the warmth and the comfort of what they now called home. She greeted each of them, touching each of them in turn, on the shoulder, on the arm, brushing back her brother's blond hair.

"There's food on the table in the kitchen, why don't you get some before you do anything else," she urged gently. Always eager for the next meal, Goniff responded with a bit of his old energy, "sounds good," and the others quickly smiled and nodded. They made their way thru the door, settling in their usual places, and were deep into the big bowls of soup before they noticed anyone else in the kitchen.

Craig started to protest; the local women weren't allowed at the Mansion unless he was there, other than his sister and the older woman who helped take care of the off-limits areas, and obviously the young redhead had been there for some time. Lynn cut him off, telling him "later, brother." The cons all nodded to Meghada, muttering a tired greeting, but focusing on their meal, all except Goniff, who exchanged a longer, more meaningful look with the woman, getting a slight smile in return; she, in turn, after taking in their battered condition, shook her head, and worked on preparing the big pans of turkey and dressing, using the bigger thicker pieces of turkey for that, peeling potatoes to mash for a potato casserole, and putting on green vegetables to steam lightly before turning them into an oven pan to roast with olive oil and garlic, all in time for a solid dinner later. She regretted the lack of variety in the proteins, but meat was scarce, and she had just been fortunate to have enough of the jars of stewed turkey she had prepared earlier in the season to provide for them now. She made a note to ask Caeide for more turkeys when they became available.

After they finished, the guys went to clean up and settle down in the warmer areas of the house; Lynn set about making sure their sleeping area was as comfortable and ready as possible, and set out the med supplies from the big kit Meghada had dumped in the car (oh, glory! Sulfa, aspirin, gauze, antiseptic, sutures, penicillin, even morphine, and more) to help with any 'mending' she had to do. She hadn't questioned the quantities or variety the woman had, but Meghada knew the question Lynn had in her mind; she volunteered "I supply those who need it, when I can, especially those the regular channels seem to overlook," with a rather grim look. Followed by a defiant, "No, I'm not black market, I don't charge for any of it, I just make sure it's used wisely. Transfer it all to your kit, if you have a place to keep it safe from the Base scavengers." And Lynn nodded, accepting that as truth, at which the woman relaxed, with a grateful nod. She'd get her kit replenished, but for now, this was the best place for what she had stashed.

The kitchen was all set; table wiped, dishes washed and reset in preparation for later, dinner in the oven, just waiting to be dished up when they were ready. Lynn and Meghada had decided that would be better than trying to marshall them to the table at any particular time. If need be, they could eat one by one, though they probably wouldn't; they seemed to congregate as a group automatically any more. Casino joked that was so they could get some before Goniff, always the first to the table, scarfed the lot. Sweet crackers, nut butter and honey sat on a side counter in case anyone got a sweet tooth, and she was sure Goniff, at least would; he seemed an ever empty trough waiting to be filled, she chuckled to herself. His appetite still surprised her. That thought brought another to her mind, raised a wondering speculation, and she stopped chuckling, took a deep breath, and brought her mind back to the matter at hand with a stern shake.

Breakfast would be scrambled eggs with tinasie and rehydrated peppers, wrapped in warmed flatbreads, with shredded cheese and homemade salsa available, and the fresh sour cream Meghada had made yesterday, far more than she'd usually have made just for herself but she'd intended to share with Mrs. Wilson and Old Howie; well, she'd just have to make more as soon as she laid her hands on the raw ingredients. Lynn would fix home fries and onions to go with, maybe with some more of the peppers; it would be tasty and filling, and something out of the ordinary for them.

The two women smiled and nodded to each other in warm satisfaction at their efforts, and parted at the door, Meghada heading back to the cottage, Lynn heading upstairs to make sure her guys were settling in. As she mounted the steps, she smoothed her hand over her pocket, feeling the envelope she'd felt Meghada slip inside; somehow she knew she'd be able to do the shopping tomorrow without begging Craig for money she was pretty sure he didn't have. "I think you've gone a good way toward paying off that debt, whatever it was," she murmured to herself with a soft, grateful smile.

**  
He'd come thru the gate for once, not over the wall, as he'd brought back the empty jars and baskets from their emergency meals a few days before. He saw her sitting on the ground in the garden path, and moved over to her, thinking to thank her, only to find her weeping softly. He froze, not sure whether he should leave or stay, but found himself kneeling beside her without making a conscious decision. "'ere now, what's wrong?" he asked softly, and she just shook her head, unable to speak. He cautiously drew her close, then tightened his arms around her, his head against hers, rocking her gently. He murmured to her softly, he never knew what he'd said, neither did she, but they both knew it helped somehow.

When her tears stopped, not because she was done, but because she was exhausted, he helped her to her feet and inside, placing her in one of the kitchen chairs. He fetched a damp cloth, wiping her face, her hands, and had her sip the small glass of bourbon he'd poured her from the bottle in the cabinet. He drew her into the bedroom, told her to get her night things on, and tell him when she was decent; she did so, though she had to think carefully about what night things she actually had, not being accustomed to wearing any, settling on a long cotton gauze housedress. She walked to the bedroom door, he was waiting at the table, and guided her into the sitting area. Settling himself in one of the big oversized chairs, he pulled her in beside him and arranged them comfortably; "try to sleep now," he told her, pulling a light cover over them. It was the best place he could think of - yes, the bed would be more restful for her, most like, but he didn't think that's such a good idea. {"She shouldn't be alone, I shouldn't be in there. This'll 'ave to do."}

She woke several times in the night, as sorrow crept in on her, but the warmth of his arms, of his body, comforted her, and she slept again. He never knew what had hit her so hard, and she could not bring herself to speak of it. It was enough that she had needed him, and he had been there for her. It was enough, for both of them.


End file.
